A Tug at the Heart String, a Squeeze of the Hand
by Fire The Canon
Summary: When Hermione and Ron reach Shell Cottage after Malfoy Manor, they can no longer ignore their feelings. Though, they just don't realise the other one feels the same way. For Olivia.


_**Written for Olivia (owluvr) as part of the Gift Giving Extravaganza**_

_**Written for Smeagolia's Battle Ships Challenge using the prompt 'when I first met you'. I'm on team Romione :)**_

_**Written for Uni Shall Not Sink's All Canon Boot Camp using the prompt 'what are you talking about?'**_

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**A Tug at the Heart String, a Squeeze of the Hand**

He didn't understand it. He couldn't even remember when it had happened. All he knew was that one moment she was no more than his bossy, annoying friend, and the next she was something more… something much more.

If he thought about it closely, perhaps it had started around the time when she'd started liking Viktor Krum. He liked the bloke – as a Quidditch player. He certainly didn't like the fact that he liked Hermione. That didn't sit well with him at all.

He hadn't realised back then that what he was feeling was jealousy. In fact, it had taken him about two more years to work that one out. Lavender had been all over him, trying to gain his attention – which, he realised, he'd stupidly and willingly given her – and then Hermione had announced she was going to Slughorn's party with McLaggen. She was too good for that slimy git, but he couldn't say that, could he? After all, she'd asked him first and he'd chosen someone who wished to snog him instead.

But the dislike he felt for McLaggen in that moment was the same dislike he'd felt for Krum when he'd watched him dancing with her at the Yule Ball. Two years older by then, he knew that he was jealous. He couldn't ignore it anymore.

Still, what he felt still confused him, and it wasn't until a bit after Christmas, in what should have been his seventh year, that he realised how he truly felt. Sure, he still found her annoying at times, and quite bossy, too, but those traits were quite endearing to him now.

It was as if his heart was being ripped from his chest when Bellatrix Lestrange grabbed her. And then when he heard her screams from above, all he wanted was to be in her place. He wanted to be the one that was being tortured. He wanted it to be him that was getting the word _Mudblood_ engraved into his arm – a constant reminder of something no one could control.

He just wanted to stop the pain for her – he'd do anything – but he couldn't. He was powerless, and that knowledge destroyed him.

Now, he sat by her bed in Shell Cottage. She was sleeping, which he knew was a good thing. She'd been through a lot, and all she needed was to rest. In that moment, he didn't care whether You-Know-Who won or not. She was safe, and that was all that mattered.

Her left arm hung slightly over the edge of the bed, and he cringed at the red-raw word that would be there forever now. Fleur had tried to remove it using magic, but she couldn't. No one could. The disgusting word would be with her forever.

He traced his finger over the mark, then rubbed it with his thumb. He thought she might wake from the touch, but she didn't. He wasn't sure if he was thankful or disappointed. This was the first time he'd been alone with her in months. The thought warmed him. He was alone with her, yet she was sleeping.

Her thick hair lay spread out on the pillow, and a few strands were on her face, which he brushed away. Again, she didn't stir.

"You know," he began softly, subconsciously glancing toward the door to make sure no one was watching, "I never thought… I never thought I'd ever be willing to… you know… sacrifice myself for someone." It was true, he'd never thought that he had such a trait in him, but seeing her in Bellatrix's grasp, knowing what she was capable of… he hadn't thought twice about it.

Better him than her, right?

He picked up her hand and held it firmly in his own. If only she could hear him now – maybe then she would forgive him. He hadn't meant to leave. He'd just been angry.

He shuffled in the wooden chair by her bed and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I wish that hadn't happened to you," he continued. "I'm sorry I let it happen."

_Please wake up_.

"I never realised until just now how much… how much you mean to me, Hermione." There, he'd said it. "I think you're bloody brilliant, and Harry and I'd be dead right now if it wasn't for you. And I've been thinking… I have no right being mad with you or Harry if you want to be together. I can't really stop you, can I? I'll get over it eventually, I guess." He sighed. His time away from them had him thinking. It would hurt, but he loved them both too much to lose their friendship.

He studied her peaceful face, and even though he knew he shouldn't, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. And in that moment, the door swung open and Harry entered uncertainly.

"Would you like me to come back?" he asked.

Feeling his ears burning, Ron jumped to his feet. "No… no… you see her now," he said. "I've had my time."

Harry nodded. "Get some rest," he said. "You've been with her for hours."

It felt more like minutes to Ron, but he didn't say anything. He quietly left the room and closed the door behind him. The moment that he had, he heard a voice and it wasn't Harry's. It was Hermione's. She'd been waiting for Harry to come in.

With an ache in his chest, he pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear what they were saying.

Perhaps he didn't want to hear.

O

He was sitting on an old chair in Bill and Fleur's kitchen when Harry returned – and to his surprise, Hermione followed him. Her face was still pale, but she looked brighter than before, and when she saw Ron, she gave him a weak smile.

He returned it, getting to his feet. "How are you?" he asked.

She gave a short nod. "Better," she said. "Thanks for sitting with me. I really appreciated it."

Ron turned a faint shade of pink. He hadn't realised she'd known he was there.

Harry guided her to a chair beside Ron and they both helped her down, which she seemed to be thankful for.

"Do you need anything, Hermione?" Bill questioned. "A drink? Anything to eat?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm good, thank you," she said.

Ron watched her, admiring her, yet when she turned his way, he quickly diverted his attention to the grooves in the table.

He suspected she'd seen, though.

"I really do mean it when I say thank you," she said after a moment. "To both of you. For what you did there and here. Thank you." Because she was sitting so close Ron, no one but him realised when she moved her hand to his, covering it gently.

His first instinct was to wrench it away, act embarrassed, and pat her on the back; but that was him two years ago. Now, he was more than willing – more than wanting – for her to be so close to him; to hold his hand.

He wasn't going to ruin the moment.

"You're welcome," he said, squeezing her hand in return. "I'm just glad you're okay… and not mad at me anymore."

She studied him curiously. "What are you talking about?"

"You know… for leaving…." He trailed off as Fleur also entered the kitchen.

Hermione shook her head. "Oh… oh… that's okay," she said. "You made up for it… I know how hard it is for you." She squeezed his hand back, and then looked to Harry. It made Ron wonder what the two of them had talked about when he'd been down here. He'd listened to the first few exchanges, but had left when Bill had caught him.

Though, by the look they gave each other, perhaps Harry really was on his side in this.

Resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss her again, Ron just smiled at her.

When he'd first met her, he'd barely wanted to be her friend. Seven years later, and the very thing he wanted more than anything else in the world was to be able to kiss her.

As his heart almost leaped from his chest at the thought, his hand slid to the engraved word on her arm, tracing each letter.

Perhaps that mark was there forever, but if she ever hated it, he'd just tell her it made her even more beautiful.

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_**I actually have a plot for what Harry and Hermione discussed without Ron, so I shall be writing that one soon. It has been in my head for ages, but when I got to finally write it, I realised I needed to separate it. So, there'll be another one based on this. Also, I know the Mudblood scar is movies and not books, but... I like to use it anyway.**_

_**Anyway, Olivia, I hope you liked it. I hope everyone did. I had a lot of fun writing it. Your reviews would be much appreciated! Thank you!**_


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